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There were things that Darcy regretted having to tell Bucky about the modern world. Stuff like how the Gros Michel banana wasn’t available anymore, after he said all the bananas in her fruit bowl tasted ‘wrong’, or how Ebbets Field had been demolished to make room for apartments. That one was rough. She thought he was still kind of moping.
Then there were things that she didn’t regret in the least. Things like introducing Bucky to the risque wonder that was body shots. Darcy did this one Saturday afternoon when he wasn’t feeling like being social in the common room, and she remembered she had a mostly full bottle of tequila left at the bottom of a box of things she’d never bothered to unpack from her time in New Mexico.
She lined everything up on her center island, pulled one of the barstools up to it, and got down to business. Unfortunately, Bucky wasn’t quite as enthusiastic about the whole idea as she was. His idea of recreational drinking began and ended at the flask of whiskey he kept in his pocket. Shots that involved more than one step, or fruit apparently, escaped him entirely. Darcy’s explanation of how to do the shots seemed to be escaping him too. Although she had a strong feeling that might have been kind of deliberate.
“No, nononono,” she said after their third attempt on the first shot, words spilling out in a rush between peels of laughter. “It’s lick, shot, lime. Shot comes second”
Bucky eyed the plate of yellow citrus slices next to the shaker of salt suspiciously. “Listen, I know I’m old. I know a lot of things have changed in seventy years, but those are definitely not limes.”
“I’m improvising,” Darcy replied. “It was either that, or go rummage in the common room fridge, and then we’d risk people asking what we were doing, and wanting to join in. Do you really want to do this with Clint? Or...god help me...Vision? Because you know he’d want to do it. He’s on that whole experiencing human things kick. I don’t want to lick Vision. He’s a great guy, and I like him...but licking him is not on my list of things to do.”
For just a few seconds she had the completely novel experience of watching Bucky consider her licking Vision. His expression set her off laughing again. Finally he shook his head and reached for the shot glass.
“Lick, shot, lemon. Is that right?” he asked.
“Yeah. Hold on. The salt part is important. Let me do the thing.”
She licked the inside of her wrist, salted it, and took the lemon wedge into her mouth. Then she nodded at him. “Mmm-kay, go,” she mumbled around the lemon in her teeth.
“Wait,” he said, frowning. “I thought I was licking you. Why are you licking you?”
Darcy spat the lemon into her hand. “So the salt will stick. You’re still licking me. I promise.” She popped the lemon back in her mouth and waved at him to go on.
Bucky hesitated for another second, then shook his head, grabbed her wrist and licked a stripe over where the salt was. After a slight wince over the taste, he downed the shot, and leaned over to take the lemon from her mouth.
“No,” he said, once the now-flattened remains of the lemon was out of his mouth.
“No what?”
“Just no. This is awful. Who drinks this? Why do they drink this?” He tilted the bottle in his hand, she assumed to read the label. It suddenly occurred to her how very bad that could be, because he was staring pretty hard, and she’d neglected to tell him about the worm. Actually, it wasn't so much neglecting to tell him as it was blatant omission.
"Okay, so maybe just give me the bottle back before..."
She snatched at the bottle and missed, wincing as his eyes widened with something close to horror when he spotted exactly what she was trying to keep from him. “Wait. What the hell is that at the bottom of the bottle?”
“Don’t look at that. It’s not important.” Darcy grabbed for the bottle again, fingers finally making contact. She pried it out of his hand, and hid it behind her back.
“It looked like a caterpillar.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Yeah well, it sure looked like one.”
Bucky was twisting around in his barstool now, trying to get a better look at the bottle which was still behind her back.
“Absolutely not. I would never let you drink a caterpillar,” she lied, pasting on a bright smile that she hoped looked convincing. “Anyway, it’s my turn now. Yay!”
“You bet I’m not drinking a damn caterpillar,” he muttered darkly before putting salt on his wrist just like she had shown him. “What the hell kind of person puts a bug in their alcohol?”
Darcy’s turn went way better than Bucky’s. She licked his wrist, took her shot, and removed the lemon from his mouth with as much sexy tongue action as she could make happen while retrieving a slice of citrus in her teeth. By the end of it, he looked slightly more enthusiastic about the entire process. He looked even more enthusiastic when she decided to lose her shirt and salt her left breast for his next turn.
Several shots after that things got a little fuzzy. Not for Bucky. Getting him drunk was almost an exercise in futility. Darcy, though….Darcy was one shot away from becoming intimately acquainted with the worm when he gently prised the bottle from her grasp, and placed an equally gentle kiss on her forehead.
“You’re soused,” he said.
“Nah.” Darcy leaned into his chest, beaming up at him. “I’m totes fine.”
Then she hiccuped. Twice.
“Doll, you are practically pickled. One more drink and you’re gonna be like the bug in this bottle here.” He shook the bottle at her, one eyebrow cocked and heavily loaded.
“Oops! You weren’t supposed to see that.” Her barstool wobbled ominously as she made a drunken swipe at the bottle. She missed, giggling loudly, and body shifting further into his.
“Oops is right,” Bucky replied. “Come on gorgeous, let’s find you a safe place to land before you end up on the floor.”
Like Darcy said, her recollections from that point on were kind of blurry. She vaguely remembered him carrying her onto the couch and putting something on TV while she sobered up. She also vaguely remembered pawing him in a way that made her hope her memories of that part would stay kind of vague forever. At least Bucky didn’t seem to mind. Just sort of kissed her back, and kept things more or less chaste, until he was sure she was no longer intoxicated.
Then they went back to her room and had a truly phenomenal amount of sex.
All in all, it was a good Saturday afternoon. Bucky learned about body shots. Nobody ate a nematode. All participants got laid multiple times and in several different positions. Score one for Darcy Lewis.
The remaining lemons sat in a bowl on her counter mostly forgotten. A couple days passed. Bucky slept over. The lemons kept silent witness to them hooking up on the kitchen counter. Another day passed, and he got called out on a covert mission while she was still sleeping. This time the lemons watched as Darcy sat at the same counter, both hands wrapped around her coffee mug, worry creasing her forehead while she waited for word that he was okay.
Nearly a week went by. She used the lemons to make snowflake cookies. Bucky returned safely that same day, and an awesome reunion complete with cookies happened. He loved them so much that Darcy decided to buy another bag of lemons and bake more. She bought the lemons, but still hadn’t gotten around to the whole baking part, because Bucky hadn’t been around to eat cookies with her. In fact, nobody had.
Something had gone south during the last mission. Bucky wouldn’t really talk about it, but the upshot was that Steve had the whole team training relentlessly so whatever it was wouldn’t happen again.
Later that day, she came back to her apartment after work only to find a single lemon sitting all by its lonesome on the counter. Darcy picked it up curiously, wondering how it had gotten out of the bowl. As she turned it over in her hands, she found the word 'Later' spelled out on it in Bucky’s familiar scrawl. She had no idea when he’d even gotten the time to sneak in and leave the lemon-message with all the training going on. In fact, he was still out on the practice field with Steve and the team by the time Darcy went to bed. The stadium lights were on, shining brightly through her windows. She glanced sadly at the lemon, before closing her curtains against the glare, and going to bed.
Some time later she was awakened from an extremely arousing dream about Bucky’s mouth and certain parts of her anatomy, only to find that Bucky’s mouth was actually on those parts of her anatomy. It would seem when he said later, he meant it.
Her back arched, hands freeing themselves from the sheets and blankets, only to tangle in his hair as she pulled him closer. “God bless lemons,” she whispered, and heard him chuckle in response.
“Wondered when you’d wake up,” Bucky replied. “You’ve been moaning in your sleep for the past two minutes.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Darcy said. “Mmmm, do that swirly, flicky thing again.”
“This one?” He did it, and her breath stuttered in and out of her lungs in broken gasps.
“That’s the one,” she finally managed.
It wasn’t the first time he’d fucked her awake. Darcy had given him permission to do it back in New Orleans, and he took advantage every chance he got. They had a code worked out and everything. It had to do with her fridge magnets, and Bucky always checked first to make sure she was cool with him waking her up with sex.
So far it was a one way street, because appearing in his apartment without warning, or waking him up suddenly from a sound sleep, wasn’t the greatest...or safest...idea. Darcy didn’t let that bother her. It would happen someday. Therapy was helping, he was working on it, and until he was ready, she was content to not press the issue.
Speaking of pressing, Bucky was working two fingers up into her, Darcy’s hips rocking into his touch as he found the spot he was seeking. He curled them, making a sound of satisfaction when she gasped in response.
“Love that sound,” he said. “Love knowing I’m the one you’re making it for, too.”
She laughed in reply to his statement. Although she had to admit it was more of a breathless huff. Air seemed to be at a premium at the moment, her chest rising and falling in a shaky, broken rhythm, as he worked her over and took her apart. When she finally came, neck arched on the pillow, and body taut under his hands, Darcy decided she was going to keep that bowl stocked with lemons at all times. Just in case.
It was a smart move. A few days later she got back to find another lemon on the counter. 'Locker room, second shower stall, three o’clock' was penned in black on the bright yellow. At the appointed time, she made her way stealthily down to the gym, sneaking across the polished floorboards and foam mats. Darcy figured the men’s locker room would be even trickier to navigate, but by some miracle (or really good planning on Bucky’s part) it was empty aside from one very specific person.
That very specific person was in the second shower stall, whistling Flying Home.
Darcy knew that whistle like the back of her hand. She knew the song too. It was one of Bucky’s favorites, a holdover from his life before HYDRA. The first time she’d heard it was at a diner in Mississippi when he took her by the hand, and stole her heart completely on a worn patch of parquet dancefloor.
Flying Home meant something to her, and it meant something to him, and hearing it tumble out over the top of the opaque glass door filled her with bright, sweet happiness. He was waiting on the other side, counting on her getting his message, and joining him. Darcy had no intention of disappointing. She shrugged out of her clothes, wrapped a towel around her body, and headed in the direction of the whistling.
“Hey Sarge,” she said, tapping softly on the glass.
The form behind it froze, final note lingering in the steamy air. Then she saw him moving. A blur of vaguely person-shaped ripples shifted closer, and the door snicked open. Bucky leaned out, water dripping from the ends of his hair, and coursing down his neck. “You got my note.”
“Mmm, yes. You realize that if you keep doing this, I’m going to start getting turned on everytime I see a lemon. Like that dog in those experiments by that one scientist whose name is escaping me right now.”
“Pavlov,” he replied, grinning.
“That’s the one.” She reached up, wiping an errant droplet of water off his top lip, and he opened his mouth and nipped the tip of her thumb.
“So, you coming in?”
Darcy cocked her head, a teasing smile tugging up the corners of her lips. “I don’t know. What happens if I come in?”
“Only one way to find out,” Bucky said.
She couldn’t argue with that. Her towel landed on the wooden bench behind her, as she followed him into the shower. Inside was all water, and warmth, and Bucky’s arms wrapping around her so he could pull her under the spray with him.
Steve caught them halfway through. Darcy didn’t hear him walk in, but Bucky did. He paused mid-thrust, body curved over hers, one arm around her waist, and his other palm braced on the tile.
“Hey, Buck,” Steve voice floated over the stall, “I was thinking about that one move we’ve been practicing with the shield. It might work better if I pass if off to you from the left-hand side instead the right.”
“Is that right?” Bucky asked. “You know, Rogers, I’m all for talking shop, but right now isn’t really a good time. I’m a little…”
“Engaged?” Darcy offered in a whisper, pushing back against him, and making him drop his head onto her neck with a strangled groan.
“Oh I’m gonna be engaged alright,” he whispered back to her. “Just you wait until I get rid of Captain Oblivious out there.”
“Oh, and one other thing,” Steve said. “If you and Darcy are going to fool around in the men’s showers, you might want to schedule it for when Bruce isn’t holding a yoga class in the gym. We uh...we got a couple noise complaints.”
It sounded like he was struggling to hold back a laugh, and Darcy wondered if it was possible to escape down the drain with the water. Bucky withdrew from her, arm still tight around her waist, and she could hear him say, “I’m gonna kill him,” under his breath.
“Me or Bruce?” Steve asked. The laugh was really threatening to break free now. Hints of it were coloring the edges of every word he said.
“You, asshole,” Bucky retorted. “You might want to start sleeping with one eye open from here on out.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. See ya on the practice field, Buck.”
Darcy’s ears strained to catch the sound of the door swinging shut behind him, and then she let out a lengthy sigh. “Fuckity fuck,” she said quietly.
“I’m trying,” Bucky replied in an aggrieved tone, and she had to bite back a giggle. “Goddamn Steve, and his goddamn noise complaints. I don’t know where the hell he gets off after the stunt he and Nat played on Ocracoke island.”
“And at the hotel in Virginia Beach,” Darcy added. She turned around to face him. “Don’t forget that.”
Bucky scrubbed a hand over his jaw in frustration. “Forget it? I needed therapy to get past it. C’mon, Spot. Let’s find our clothes and take this somewhere else where we won’t be interrupted.”
They did, and that concluded the second time Bucky used a lemon to get in her pants. The third time she found one next to her computer at work that simply said 'Turn around'. Darcy still wasn’t sure where he’d been hiding in her office, but she was never, ever going to look at her desk the same way again. That was for sure.
The fourth time the lemon was in her purse. She came across it while on a date with him. 'PARKING?' was written in big block letters that encircled the center. It turned out Bucky had found out about the local observation point. Darcy discovered this fact shortly thereafter, and also discovered that the seats in her car reclined further than she’d realized.
The fifth time the lemon was in her pantry behind a can of soup. Bucky was also in the pantry. How he got in the pantry when Darcy was positive he was in a briefing in an office somewhere upstairs was beyond her, but she decided that part wasn’t important.
This went on for a couple months. It got to the point where the mere mention of a lemon in passing conversation had Darcy simultaneously blushing and going hot all over. She’d also learned more lemon-based recipes than anyone should ever, ever know.
Sometime around the eighth bag of lemons...but who was counting...Darcy walked into her apartment after a very, very late night trying to crack a stubborn encryption to find a three of them lined up on her counter like train cars. Each one had a single word on it in Bucky’s handwriting. When she saw what they said, Darcy’s heart started to pound.
Fuck. Me. Awake?
This was a big deal. A huge deal. Possibly the most massive step forward in their relationship to date. She stared at the lemons, throat going dry, and all her exhaustion from the hours of fruitless hacking disappeared without a trace. Hell yes, she would fuck him awake. She was gonna fuck him awake right the fuck now.
It took her thirty seconds to get out of her work clothes, and about ten minutes more to get ready for the task at hand. Fastest shower on record for her really, but whatever. Wearing nothing more than one of Bucky’s t-shirts over a pair of underwear, she slipped out into the hall, and snuck down to his apartment.
Her hair was still wet.
She forgot to wear shoes.
Both those things seemed eleven thousand percent irrelevant as she stood in front of his door, waiting for the retinal scan to be completed.
“Lewis, Darcy. Privacy protocols enabled. Permission to enter granted,” Friday’s voice intoned. There was a pause as the lock opened with a soft click. Then, as Darcy was reaching for the handle, Friday said, “He’s been expecting you. Have a good evening, Ms. Lewis.”
It sounded like the A.I. was smiling. Darcy took it as a good sign.
The apartment was dimly lit. It was enough to see by, though. She crept through the living room, and down the hall while butterflies started a dance-party in her stomach. Truthfully, she half-expected Bucky to already be awake. Possibly even already be behind her, following as she made her way to his room.
What she didn’t expect was to find him sound asleep. One arm was stretched out on the pillow above his head, and the other resting on his chest. Darcy took a moment to just watch him in the low light emanating from the hall. Catching him sleeping was a rare thing. Even when he spent the night in her bed, Bucky nearly always woke before she did.
He was beautiful, the entire wealth of innocence that HYDRA taken from him was plain to see, softening the planes of his face. His chest was rising and falling peacefully beneath the metal arm flung across it. She wondered if he did the same thing with her when he showed up at her place late at night. If he took a few seconds to just breathe, and watch, and find her sleeping face beautiful. Knowing Bucky, he probably did.
Without even thinking about it, she reached out and let her fingers trace over his collarbone. It was such a light touch, barely a graze, but his reaction was immediate. Darcy had no warning other than the sharp sound of him inhaling as he promptly came awake and grabbed her arm. The world spun around her, air whistling by her ears, and she landed on her back next to him on the bed. Bucky was on top of her almost as fast, body pinning her down, both hands wrapped around her wrists.
She was trapped. He was so big, and so strong, and she was trapped under him with no idea if he knew who she was or not. Darcy forced her body to relax. This was Bucky. She trusted him. She’d told him that countless times, and there was no way she was going back on that now.
Letting the breath out that she’d been holding, Darcy let her eyes seek out his. What she saw in them made her shiver.
“Well hello there, Spot,” he said, bending down so his lips could brush over her jaw. “What took you so long?”
“James Buchanan Barnes, you didn’t even let me get to the good parts first,” she accused. “That’s completely unfair.”
He chuckled, the vibration running through her and causing another series of heady shivers. “Oh yeah? What good parts are those?”
“I’m not telling,” Darcy retorted. “Next time stay asleep and you’ll find out.”
“Next time, huh?”
“Yeah. Next time. I’m mad at you right now. All that stealth and sneaking, totally wasted.”
“You aren’t mad,” he said.
“Yes I am.”
“Nah.”
“I’m so mad. You don’t even know.”
He quirked an eyebrow at her. “You’re smiling.”
“That’s my anger smile,” she insisted.
“You’ve got your hand in my boxers.”
“Just ignore that part.”
“Not a chance,” he told her. “I’ve been waiting all night for that part.”
“Have you?”
“Mmhm,” Bucky said as her fingers encircled him, and she began to stroke. His head dipped down, mouth finding hers in the dark.
“You let me wake you up,” she said, once her lips were available again.
“I did.”
“It’s new.”
“Call it progress,” he murmured. “Are you wearing my shirt?”
“I am. Want me to take it off?”
He nodded, and they broke apart for a second to get out of their clothes. When they came back together she maneuvered them so she was top, hands spread out on his chest, and legs straddling his hips.
“You taking over?” Bucky asked, watching while she lifted up enough to position herself, and then sank down on him.
“Yep. Is that okay?”
He smiled. “I’m all yours, doll. Do your worst.”
Darcy ran her fingers down his body, nails lightly scratching his skin. “Don’t you mean my best?”
Any answer he had to offer was lost in a muffled groan as she rolled her hips. They started a slow rhythm, each shift in their bodies bringing them closer until a sweet tension began to build between them. It ebbed and flowed like waves on a shore, growing stronger with every passing second.
There was nothing but them. Nothing but the stillness, and the quiet, and the feel of him inside her. In that moment it was everything. No, Darcy thought. It was all things. All the things she couldn’t say yet, and all the things she didn’t know how to articulate. She loved him. The words might not have been spoken out loud, but that didn’t make them any less true.
Her climax came on with an unexpected suddenness that left her gasping, and rocked her to the core. Towards the end she was leaning over him, both her hands palm to palm in his, sharing his very breath while Bucky shook apart beneath her. She watched as he came undone, his eyes focused on her face like she was the only thing in his world that mattered.
Afterwards Darcy lay cradled against his chest. She could feel his skin, damp with exertion where it touched hers. The fingers of his left hand were tracing up and down the center of her back, and she sighed happily, drowsiness washing through her limbs.
He turned his head on the pillow, lips coming in contact with her forehead. “You falling asleep on me there, Spot?”
“Who me? No. I’m just resting my eyes.”
She yawned widely, hiding her mouth behind her hand. Bucky responded with a huffing laugh, rolling them so that they were side by side with her in the middle of the bed.
“Better?” he asked.
“Mmm, yes.”
“Still resting your eyes?”
“Yeah, why? Want me to open them?”
“Maybe for just a second,” Bucky said.
Darcy did. Just in front of her, sitting on the pillow, was a lemon. Her eyes flicked up to his face, taking in the boyish grin on it, and then refocused on the lemon. It was completely blank except for one word written right in the middle:
'Tomorrow'.